


A Savage World (I'm currently mentally outlining a plot ignore all of this it was just a general idea vomit to get a feel for the concept, soon there will be an active plot which means re-write time! :D)

by Eurasian_Lynx



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Wolves, At least in Aspheria, But I write what I want, Dreamsharing, M/M, The AU no one asked for or wanted, Victor watches Spanish soap operas, confident!yuuri, sort of, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-05 17:49:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11018475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eurasian_Lynx/pseuds/Eurasian_Lynx
Summary: It's hard at times, living two lives.No, it's not as though the great Victor Nikiforov steals away in the dead of night to be a superhero. Nor that he has some 'Average Joe' mask that he wears when he just wants to be able to walk around without anyone knowing it's him.No, there's no disguises here.It's just that, sometimes he'd like to be able to sleep and dream like a normal person, instead of finding his eyes blinking open into wakefulness on another world the moment his head touches the pillow, having to rouse his other body from it's slumber as he readies himself for the coming day in the world of Aspheria, while the human Victor is fast asleep. And when evening comes and the Aspherian Victor lays his head down to sleep, it is to be met with the human Victor opening his eyes, ready to start another day on Earth.Sometimes, he'd really like to be able to sleep and turn his brain off for a few hours, rather than having to live two lives. But ah well, it's not like literally every other Aspherian isn't in the same situation, and they do what they must. Another day, another dollar.





	1. Two Lives

The sound of the apartment door slamming shut was soon followed by a pained groan, muffled behind bitten lips. With a wince, the groaner in question raised his arm, still bent from having closed the door, and rolled the shoulder with the other hand massaging the pained muscle. The lids to blue eyes twitched lightly at the unpleasant twinges that raced up his nerves as he tried to relax the muscles, but with a sigh he allowed the limb to drop, resigning himself to the discomfort until he could take some painkillers and preferably a hot bath.

His planning was interrupted by the sound of pounding paws against the wooden floorboards of the complex, accompanied by a gleeful bark and the clacking of the canine's nails on the floor. The man had to brace himself so as not to be thrown off balance by the 60 pounds worth of poodle that crashed into him with a thumping tail.

He smiled despite the jolt of pain at the contact, ruffling the dog's fur as his voice slipped into falsetto.

"Hey Makka, heya girl. Who's a good girl? Who's a good girl? You are, yes you are. Yes you are arghhh..."

The end of his statement dissolved into a playful growl as he nuzzled his face into his pet's brown fur, the curls caressing his face as he gave Makkachin the snuggle of a lifetime. A quick squeeze later and he'd deposited the forefront of her body back onto the ground, strained muscles momentarily forgotten as he made his way to the kitchen, retrieving a bag of treats as was routine. Makkachin's tail only began to wag harder as she saw what her master was doing, another bark slipping from her lips as she panted with excitement.

The silver-haired man who had only just put his hand on the treat bag when the dog barked gave a hearty laugh. Oh, wasn't his little girl just the most precious thing in the world? He opened the zip-locked bag with a flourish, plucking out one of the vaguely meat-smelling objects with a flourish and tossing it into the air. He watched as his poodle reared on her hind legs to easily catch it in her mouth, grinning at the impressive display of mouth-eye coordination. She was getting better at it all the time.

He closed the bag and set it back on the counter before turning so he could prop himself against the counter instead, counter top digging into his hip. Arms crossed over his chest as he met his dog's gaze, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

"What? You want another one?"

He got a 'woof' in response, the poodle dropping into a play-bow as her tail seemed to go wild, tongue lolling from her mouth.

The man laughed, eyes crinkling in mirth.

"Alright, but just one more!"

It was three more before he even had dinner ready for the both of them.

Initially, when he had brought home the rambunctious poodle pup, he had been insistent on feeding her nothing but dog food. He didn't want any begging, he wanted her to eat a healthy diet and live a good, long life. He'd been so adamant.

Then he decided at some point that enjoying good food was another part of living a good life, so he began eating nothing but dog-friendly meals, always making a second portion for his beloved pet. Whatever he ate, she ate, with a few nutritional supplements here and there to make up for her being, well, not a human. Ah, evenings were always the best. When he could finally pop off not just his skates but shoes as well, letting his aching, bruised feet air out as he propped them up on the table, leaning so far back into his couch it was a miracle the furniture wasn't broken yet, and TV on.

Makka laid down next to him, slurping up her meal from the bowl she had gripped between her paws. The silver-haired man had his plate balanced on his chest as he watched the program, popping a bite of the chicken into his mouth and chewing soundly. He'd recently gotten into Spanish soap operas, even though he couldn't understand them. He'd eventually found a way to get Russian subtitles, but even without the subtitles he still enjoyed the programs. Didn't have half a mind as to what they were saying, but they were just _so interesting, somehow._

He absentmindedly cut off another bite of his chicken, proffering it to Makka who happily slurped it off his fork, before returning to his own meal, eye transfixed on the screen.

It seemed Selena's husband, Marco, had been cheating on her all this time with her sister, but they'd hinted at that back in episode 7. What he hadn't been expecting was that now it looked like Selena's sister wasn't even her sister at all, and was in fact Marco's sister, who had been switched at birth with Selena's real sister so they each grew up with the sibling of their future spouse. So Marcos had in fact been sleeping with his own biological sister, who was now expecting his child.

It was only Victor's quick reflexes that kept the man's plate from going flying to the floor as he sat up, mouth agape and eyes wide in shock as he gasped. The DNA test results were in, and it looked like Maria (Selena's not-sister who turned out to actually be Marco's sister) was in fact _not_ pregnant with Marco's child, but someone else's. Victor could process it.

"Who do you think it is, Makka? It has to be either Juan or Julio, there's no way it could... wait, do you think maybe it's Ricardo? No way, that's impossible! But hang on, if Maria isn't pregnant with Marco's child, then have they not actually been sleeping together?"

He gasped again, as whatever happily panting expression his poodle gave him seemed to confirm the man's thoughts.

Luckily for him, he'd already set his plate on the table, as his hands now flew to clap to either side of his face as he looked at Makkachin in shock.

"No way! Do you think Marco knew that Maria was his sister the whole time?!?"

The poodle had absolutely no idea what he was saying, but was smart enough to recognize his tone of voice as being a question that was most definitely directed at her. So she gave a resounding 'woof' as her tail wagged, giving him what seemed to be an affirmative reply. Victor just rolled with it.

"No way! It can't be! Then what about Juan's ties to the mafia? If Marco actually knew that Maria was his sister, then why was he paying the mafia off to protect Martha? You know, the one who was actually Selena's sister but grew up with Marco's family? If he knew that she wasn't his sister, then why was he so adamant that Juan couldn't sleep with her?"

There was another gasp as Makka's eyes began to wander to Victor's seemingly abandoned plate, pondering if she could have since he didn't seem all that interested in it anymore.

"Do you think Marco's been sleeping with Martha this whole time?!? Because he said back in episode 5 that he wants to be a father one day, but he had this look in his eyes that said he knew he was _going_ to be a father real soon. Do you think Martha is pregnant with his child?!?"

Makkachin gave another 'woof', collar jingling as she leapt off the couch, propping her head on the table as she looked at Victor's plate longingly.

He got the gist of it and snatched his dish back before she could claim it for her own.

"Ah, just because I make you your own portion doesn't mean you can have mine."

The poodle looked at him sadly for a moment, before she seemed to get over it and wandered off to her bed, flopping down and gnawing on one of her toys with great enthusiasm. Her owner clicked the remote, unpausing the program that he had halted so he could rant to his dog about his theories.

There was a resounding scream in the apartment complex as it was revealed that Martha was, in fact, pregnant. Makka howled along as her owner shrieked some strange mixture of unadulterated shock and a victory cry.

There was a noise complaint.

Victor laughed and scratched at the back of his neck as his Mrs. Petrov came over to talk to him about keeping both his own voice and his dog's voice down in the near future. He managed to get her distracted as they discussed another soap opera he had been watching recently, which it turned out they both watched. Makka greeted the old woman with a wagging tail happy bump of the head. She came over to make a noise complaint often enough that the dog liked her, especially given how it seemed every time she came over she always wound up in a conversation with the dog's silver-haired owner about some soap opera or another.

Makkachin liked Mrs. Petrov.

Mrs. Petrov gave her extra treats.

But alas, the time came for the old woman to return to her own apartment, giving one last wagging finger at the nervously laughing man and a stern reminder to keep his voice down next time. He waved her off with his heart-shaped smile and a promise that he would. A promise they both knew he would break in less than 24 hours.

But nonetheless, it was just about time for bed as their conversation finished up. Taking Makkachin on one last walk so she could do her business, the silver-haired man slipped into the shower with a slight wince for his bruises. But overall, the steam and the relaxing warmth of the water more than made up for any mild pain he might have experienced, soothing his aching muscles into relaxation.

Poor Makkachin had to deal with the result of said relaxation, which was her owner singing without a care in the world.

The neighborhood strays had ancient legends that Victor Nikiforov's voice could make one go deaf.

They also had ancient legends that Makkachin must secretly be a child of the gods for she had retained both her hearing and sanity after all these years.

Victor never quite got why none of the stray cats or dogs seemed to act aggressively towards his poodle, not even in the slightest bit. He chalked it up to her friendly personality making her impossible to hate.

But it was over soon enough, and the neighborhood could rest at ease that they had survived the nightly onslaught.

The silver-haired man slid into bed after changing, patting the space next to him to invite his beloved poodle to come snuggle with him. She momentarily wrinkled her nose as she saw his hair, still wet, but acquiesced eagerly nonetheless. Victor gave a soft grunt as 60 pounds of dog all but crashed into his chest, but laughed and threw an arm around her, fingers carding through the brown curls. He buried his face in her fur, nuzzling her contentedly.

"Mmm... you smell like a dog!"

She didn't answer him, but did begin squirming so she could roll over onto her back, belly exposed as she peered up at him from her thrown back head, tongue lolling out as she panted happily at him. He laughed again and scratched at her stomach, before throwing his arm across her chest once more and pulling her to him with faux-aggressiveness, giving a mock growl and rubbing against her shoulder. The dog squirmed, paws flailing at him, drawing another laugh from him that seemed to dance in his eyes.

Eventually, the two playful companions settled down, and were soon dozing off. Makkachin was fast asleep from where she was curled next to her owner, having claimed one of the pillows as her own for the night. Blue eyes gazed at her with a half-lidded look of affection, and a small smile quirked at the corner of his lips.

"See you in the morning, girl..."

His eyes slid all the way shut as he fell asleep, ready to sleep until the morning came and brought with it another day of training.

But for him, sleep didn't quite mean the same thing that it did for his loving poodle.

Those same blue eyes that had only moments before closed, slowly slid open to the first light of dawn. A silver ear twitched from where it sat atop the man's head, taking in the sound of singing birds. He had unconsciously shifted in his waking, and received a soft grunt of disturbance from his side, and the sounds of a shifting body that indicated the movements of his mate.

The silver wolf gave a soft smile as he listened to his mate's sleep grumblings, before the smile was stolen from his face as he yawned. His maw parted, lips curling back to reveal his teeth as he yawned, before he smacked his lips with a still half-asleep look on his face. He gazed out from his shared den, taking in the morning sunlight before his body demanded more movement from him, seeming to have chosen to wake up as of now.

The silver-furred man stretched, eyes squinting shut as he splayed his forepaws before him, flexing the muscles and toes with a soft grunt. He sighed as softly in contentment at the pleasant feeling the movement brought him as he curled his paws back to his chest, shifting the pair of wings that rested against his sides as he did so.

Apparently, his movements had been enough to rouse his slumbering mate from his repose, and a pair of soft, doe-brown eyes slowly blinked open at the rising sunlight. The silver wolf looked over his shoulder as he felt his mate shifting, catching the gaze of the other wolf with a soft smile.

"You get to bed at a good time tonight?"

The black-furred wolf that was still laid down on the den's floor next to him gave a noncommittal grunt, which the silver wolf decided to take as an affirmative.

A part of him wanted to rest here for a while longer, the two wolves curled up together in their den as the morning sunlight filtered across the canopies of the surrounding forests. That was one of the incredible things about their pack, the dens were all placed in the great tree in the center of the territory that soared above all the others, allowing them to watch the sun rise over the horizon every morning without having to leave the forest.

It was truly a sight worth waking up to.

But no matter how much he wanted to enjoy this easy relaxation with his mate for a while longer, his body was beginning to itch for him to stand up and stretch. To get up and move around. The more he woke up, the more he began to find himself with an excess of energy that demanded to be burned off.

And so despite the sleepy protests of his mate, the silver-furred wolf rose from where he rested, blue eyes sparkling on his face as he closed his eyes to bathe in the morning sunlight for a moment more.

"I'm going to go out for a quick flight, see you in a little while?"

He received a sort of half-nod from where his mate remained curled up in their shared nest, seeming as though he wasn't quite willing to wake up just yet. The silver wolf momentarily wondered if he was having some trouble falling asleep, or if he was just being lazy this morning. He shrugged it off.

The silver wolf dropped into a bowed position, stretching like a cat as he flexed the two silver wings that adorned his back, stretching out all of the muscles and breaking them free of whatever tension they had built up from being stuck in the same position all night. As he rose to stand at his full height once more, his wings fluttered lightly against his back, ruffling the feathers and shaking out whatever tension remained.

He took a step back.

The silver-furred man cast his gaze back to his mate once more, who seemed to sense the eyes upon him and rolled his head back so that their gazes could meet each other.

"See you in a little while, Vinik."

The silver wolf only smiled at his mates words, before turning his attention to the opening of the den before them.

He surged forward, paws pounding against the den floor before he leapt from the dens opening and out into the free air. Their den was quite a ways away from the ground below, and the silver wolf allowed himself to free fall for but a moment in a diving position. His wings flared out to either side of him, and he arched his body so that his momentum would carry him from the dive to bring him back upright, gaining cheap and easy speed from his free fall so that as he soared out over the forest canopy, he didn't have to put quite as much effort into it.

Silver wings beat the air as the wolf soared off over the treetops, angling his flight so that he only circled around the local area. After all, he didn't want to get too far away from his beloved mate, now did he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no plot yet so here's to hoping that this Magical Wolf AU that absolutely no one asked for manages to find some plot-like structure to follow since I do actually want to keep writing it, lol.
> 
> Also Victor 100% watches Spanish soap operas and none can convince me otherwise.
> 
> This is all going to be edited once I have a better idea of what's happening.


	2. Can't Stop Laughing When I'm With You

It was always an interesting sensation, flying, that is. The way his body would dip down just the slightest every time he brought his wings up, and then would rise again with every down stroke. He was getting better at it, of course, and he was managing to maintain more and more of a constant elevation the longer he practiced, but it would never stop being interesting.

Perhaps it had to do with living so many years of his life as an ordinary human being that made flight so peculiar, since it was so new and extraordinary. Sometimes he was convinced that this all really was nothing more than a dream, but he wasn't quite that much of a fool. He knew he had a wonderful imagination, but not even he could dream up something quite so spectacular and quite so consistent as this.

Blue eyes slid shut as the wolf simply allowed the winds to carry him for a moment, wings spread out to their impressive span on either side as he simply glided over the forest canopy. He could feel the afternoon sun gently caressing his pelt, and had to momentarily resist the urge to simply curl up and slumber in the warm rays. If he were to do that, he would fall from the skies in a mess of most likely broken bones and severe injuries.

Although, to be fair, he had done far more foolish things before.

Like that time he laced together Yakov's skates without the man realizing it. (To this day he wasn't sure how he managed that.)

There was no explanation as to how he made it out of that incident without being murdered. Well, no explanation that wasn't _divine intervention_ in any case.

The silver wolf let out a bark of a laugh as his eyes slid open, still chuckling to himself over the memory.

"What're you laughing at up there?"

The call was vaguely distant, but audible to his heightened senses. Vinik looked down at the ground, finding that he had entered the clearing surround the Great Koken Tree without realizing it, and that distant voice was in fact that of his mate. Said mate was currently seated upon one of the trees massive roots, tail primly laying over his paws as he watched his flying husband with a curious look in his eyes.

And oh those eyes, those eyes were what first enraptured him to this man.

Rather than answering, the silver wolf beat his wings to slow himself down, angling himself to come to a landing a short ways away from his beloved at the same time. He touched down upon the grasses, wings folding against his back as he made the short run across the grass that separated the two, leaping up to take a seat on the root next to his beloved mate.

He still chose not to answer, instead rubbing his face against the black wolf next to him, mindful of the horns that curled out from the other mans skull. He may have been a bit over enthusiastic, leaning more and more of his body wait into the other one with the movements, knocking them both off balance. His mate gave a yelp of shock as he felt himself falling backwards, and it was too late when Vinik realized what he'd done.

The both of them landed in a tangled heap of limbs next to the tree root, the soft ground having absorbed their impact.

Or, well, the ground having absorbed Yorosts impact, and Yorosts body absorbing Viniks.

Yorost groaned in mild pain from where he lay.

The silver wolf atop him simply looked down at him with a playful grin, seeming to not notice the complaints of his mate, before he rolled off to lay on his back next to the other man, laying his head to the side so as to better look at him.

Yorost Keylo, one of the four wolves of the High Court in the pack of Novus.

In the lands of Aspheria, there were wolves of all shapes and sizes, and all with their own wondrous, magical powers. It was a world of fantasy and magic, where one could have hooves instead of paws, wings upon your back and horns on your head, and that wasn't even scratching the surface of the possibilities. Hell, Vinik had seen a man whose body looked to be made of charcoal and always had flames leaping from its surface, and his blood looked like magma.

Suffice to say he had turned tail and run as fast as he could from that one particular man.

But one thing was shared between all the wolves of Aspheria.

They were all human beings.

Most people, when they slept, simply did that, sleeping. But some found themselves waking up in another body, in another life, on another world. Whenever they rested, they would find themselves in the lands of Aspheria, as being with magical powers and limitless possibilities. They lead simpler lives than they did back on Earth, choosing to simply band together in groups that fought only for the necessities of life (usually) and were content to simply live and enjoy the marvelous world they lived in every night their human bodies slept.

The only problem was, that because they wanted to separate their lives in Aspheria from those on Earth, they had taken up a long-standing custom of keeping the details of your human life to yourself. To remain anonymous in a sense, in that a wolf you met in Aspheria would rarely tell you who they were on Earth, so as not to complicate things. Besides, you only had a limited number of years in Aspheria anyway, your wolven body could only last for about 12 years if you were one of the lucky ones, and while there had been rumors of immortality and reincarnation, such things hadn't been seen as possible as of yet.

(But who knew? Vict-Vinik (He had to think of himself like that, keep the two lives separate.) certainly hadn't thought most of what he was seeing was possible, and yet here he was.)

So if you had such limited time compared to the 80 or so years you could generally have on Earth, why complicate your life by bringing your earthly problems with you?

So they didn't, for the most part. There had been a few here and there who decided to leave a mark, but for the most part they all kept their lips shut about their human identities. It did make things a little difficult from time to time, especially when one fell in love. It was common talk among them all that those who took mates in Aspheria generally did not enter relationships on Earth, for it felt like a betrayal of their lovers. Vinik was no different. Vinik Keylo (nee Nihade) had his mate Yorost. Victor Nikiforov had no one but Makkachin.

A part of him longed so desperately to ask the question, to beg Yorost to tell him who he was until his body withered and faded, but he could never quite dare. So many times he felt the question dancing on the tip of his tongue, ready to slip free, only for him to bite down on it and force it back. It was... simply not something that was done. It was... almost like a betrayal of trust, as though you could not simply accept your partner or packmates for who they were here, that you felt you had to judge them by their human actions and not simply allow them a clean slate to lead a new life.

Vinik would know.

He had done it before.

And that was why he stilled his tongue now, even as his blue eyes longingly gazed into the soft brown ones of his mate, longing to see those eyes framed by a human face as well. To see that infinite kindness, love, and wisdom set in a humans visage, to know the man next to him in two worlds instead of just one. To not just know Yorost Keylo, one of the four advisers to the pack leaders that doubled as generals of the warriors and mages in times of conflict, but to know whomever had lived before that man, and who would live on after Yorost had perished. For Aspherian time was limited. You would find yourself born into the world at some age in your human life, finding yourself suddenly dreaming of being born as a pup, and growing up in another world in your dreams. And when your time was over, you were left with nothing but your human life once more, your sleep plagued by dreams, instead of a life in another world.

Those very brown eyes that had first drawn Vinik to the other man were currently sparkling with mild confusion and an almost playful curiosity.

"Is there something on my face?"

The silver-furred wolf found himself replying on simple instinct.

"Yeah."

"Oh, what is it?"

"Me!"

He suddenly threw himself to the side, ignoring the mildly panicked squeals of his mate as his tongue slipped out from his lips to run all over the other mans face, covering him in slobber. Yorost cried out between bouts of laughter.

"Oh gods! Save me! I'm under attack!"

"None can help you, you're mine now!"

"Oh no! Am I to be slain on the battlefield?"

Vinik had rolled over so that he was currently standing above his mate, who was currently still on his back. The silver wolf had his paws on the ground on either side of his beloved, and was still currently licking at the other mans face while said man swiped at his tongue with large paws, only half-hearted in his motions as he continued to laugh.

Vinik crowed out in between licks.

"You see the truth, my dear fool! Yes, I, Vinik, Warlord of the Evil Pack of Evil Lands shall bring down the High Court of Novus, claiming the head of the court members as my trophy to bring to my Evil King in Evil Lands!"

No one said he _always_ had a good imagination. Just generally.

Yorost still seemed to think it hilarious.

"You shall not find me such easy prey, my lord! For this wolf is more bite than bark!"

And with that, Vinik suddenly found himself thrown off balance, tossed to the side with a loud 'oof!' as his mate rolled over to now be the one atop him.

"Aha! I have you now!"

Vinik cried out melodramatically.

"Oh no! Whatever shall I do now? Even if I were to make my escape there is no way I could defeat one as strong as you, and my king will have my head if I return with nothing!"

"Then perish!"

Yorosts fangs were suddenly on either side of Viniks throat, only lightly resting on the flesh. Vinik half-closed one eye, looking off in a random direction as he opened his mouth with a 'blegh' and let his tongue loll out to the side in faked death. He could practically feel the giggles welling up in his mates chest before he heard them, and suddenly the fangs were gone from either side of his throat, and the black wolf with curling rams horns, cloven hooves where his hind paws should be and a lions tail instead had his face buried in his mates chest, trying to stifle the laughter that demanded to be let out.

He didn't succeed.

Vinik himself was the one to break his mates self-control, a giggle of his own slipping out from his lips which was all it took to send his mate into full blown laughter, the horned man rolling off of his mate to laugh loudly and with abandon where he lay on the ground. Viniks own laughter was just as loud, just as carefree and joyful as the two lay next to each other, just laughing at themselves, their silly game, and just laughing for the simple reason that they were happy.

Eventually, their laughter began to die down, and Vinik found himself once more staring into the sparkling eyes of his mate. The both of them were just laying there on their backs, paws dangling in the air as they just looked at each other, catching their breath after having laughed so long. Yorost actually had to scrub at his eyes to wipe away the tears of mirth that had built up.

"So, what was it that you were laughing about earlier?"

Vinik was momentarily confused by the sudden question, and he had no doubt that it showed, before he suddenly had to stifle another giggle, a grin breaking out across his features.

Yorost was smiling.

"Oh dear, I know that look."

Vinik played innocent.

"What look?"

"What did you do this time?"

There was no point in denying it. His smile came back full force as he looked off, drawing out his words.

"Weelllll... It's not really something I should probably talk about, if you get what I mean."

The look of interest and fond exasperation dropped off of Yorosts face, suddenly replaced with what looked to be slowly developing shame at having asked. Vinik had to put a stop to that before it became full blown.

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't kno-"

"But it's nothing really major, just childhood antics, so I think I can tell you."

He winked for emphasis, his grin turning playful as he stuck the tip of his tongue out in a childish smirk. It seemed to work, as Yorost rolled his eyes, smile finding its way back onto his face.

"Well in that case I'm _really_ sorry I asked."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Yorosts eyes were shining with mischief.

"I've seen what you get up to as a wolf, imagining you with _fingers_ is a true nightmare."

"I don't know if I should be offended or flattered."

"And there you go, proving my point."

The silver wolf shoved at his mates shoulder with a paw. Said mate just laughed.

"Well in that case just forget about me telling you."

"Ah, no! It sounds like a good story!"

"Well it'd take me about 10 seconds to tell you, so I doubt it even counts as a story."

Yorost pouted, sticking his bottom lip out like a child.

"Aw... come on, pwease?"

"Since when were you three?"

Yorost choked on a snicker. The play on words got to him. He was a three year old wolf in Aspheria. He still managed a response.

"Oh I don't know, probably for almost a year now."

"Is that sarcasm I detect?"

"Took you that long?"

"Oh shove off."

Yorost only laughed as Vinik shoved at his shoulder again.

"But if you really want to know, I was basically remembering how I tied my teachers shoelaces together and somehow got away scot free."

Not quite the truth, but close enough without giving away too many details about his life. Yorost was smiling, but not quite laughing. Perhaps he ought to elaborate a little more.

"Let me make it more clear, he's one of those people who is short, wide, and really, really angry 24/7. I suffered the next day but at least for the day I did it I somehow escaped. Just imagine whatever you think a little me looks like running away from a small, angry person and that's basically it."

Yorost broke out again in raucous laughter at whatever mental image he had conjured up.

Vinik laughed as well for the simple reason that Yorost was laughing.

Really now, it was a miracle that either of them ever managed to get anything done. Because gods was Vinik in love with this man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing as how I don't know where I'm going with this yet I'll just go ahead and lay out the premise right now instead of slowly building it up over the chapters like I might have done if I had a plan. Enjoy exposition vomit.
> 
> Yes, Vinik = Victor and Yorost = Yuuri they just don't know who the other is. And yes Victor's Aspherian name is literally Vi from Victor and Nik from Nikiforov smushed together. He's not the most creative of people at times.
> 
> Also yes, their initials are meant to be kept the same as their human names.


	3. Performance For A Lover

"Come, come, kitty, kitty! You're so pretty, pretty! Don't go kitty, kitty! Stay with me!"

Victor was really regretting the ringtone he'd chosen for little Yuratchka right about now. He'd chosen it as a joke, with with the angry teens love of cats, and usually he found it hilarious to listen to. (Even more so when Yuratchka could hear it as it went off, he didn't know it was physically possible to turn that red!) But right now, he wanted nothing more than to chuck the phone against the wall as hard as he could, praying it broke and shattered into splinters in the process.

...Perhaps Yuratchka was rubbing off on him, he hadn't been filled with such angst and anger in a long while. Maybe he needed to take a break from the rink at least to be away from the moody teen.

But as he sat up with a discontent groan, rubbing his eyes and letting the phone go to voicemail, he couldn't help but feel the real reason for his distress stabbing at him in the midst of his breast.

He'd been having such a wonderful conversation with Yorost, filled with much play cuddling and silly stories. They'd begun trading childhood tales, altering a few things here and there to keep some secrets, but talking about their silly antics nonetheless. And it wasn't just their human childhoods they talked about, Victor had been privy to how an excited Yorost was so energized over discovering that his horns were beginning to bud that he crashed headfirst into a tree in his running around, winding up with a mild concussion and strict orders to stay in his nest for the nest few days. The tale had surprised him, usually his mate was in very good control of his emotions. He supposed it said a lot about just how excited Yorost had been to see his horns beginning to grow in for him to have acted such a way.

_"You know, for the longest time I thought I was never going to even grow any horns. Both my parents had horns, but I was already close to being a yearling and hadn't seen any sign that they were growing in."_

_The black wolf crossed his forepaws, propping his head on them as he gazed at Vinik._

_"And it wasn't just my parents either, my siblings had already begun to bud as well, and every wolf in our family tree had had horns for at least two generations back, and there was only even one wolf in the third generation back that didn't have horns. I was beginning to worry that I would be another 'black sheep' of the family, so to speak."_

_The man shrugged, the strain in his voice unnoticeable to most, but Vinik could hear the slight tightness that had begun to develop in his mates speech._

_"I was really the only person who was worried about it. My parents said they didn't care, and looking back I can see that they really didn't. My siblings didn't either, but I just wanted so badly to fit in I-"_

_He stopped, mouth still open as though he was going to speak, before he closed his jaws with a soft 'clack' of his teeth._

_Vinik butted his head against the other man's shoulder ever so softly._

_"What's wrong?"_

_Yorost was staring off into the distance, not seeming to have heard the silver wolf's question. Vinik was about to repeat himself when his mate simply shrugged, still refusing to look at him._

_"Just... thinking."_

_"About?"_

_"...Things."_

_The black wolf's voice was getting quieter with every word, and Vinik had just enough sense to keep his mouth shut after that. Usually he would just bull write over such social cues, not picking up on the fact that maybe he was making the other person uncomfortable, but with Yorost it was different. He loved this man to the ends of Aspheria and Earth, and he prided himself on the fact that he was certain he'd be able to pick the human Yorost out of a crowd without even trying should they ever meet. The other man usually moved with such confidence and surety in his stride that to hear him suddenly reluctant to discuss something was as noticeable as a bomb dropping from the sky._

_Vinik didn't know what the problem was, and while he was sure that their relationship had enough trust built in it that if he really pushed he could wriggle an answer out of the other man, he didn't **want** to push him._

_So instead, he simply flopped his wing down on top of the other mans back, a grin curling at his lips at the startled jerk his mate gave._

_"Well, I guess it doesn't really matter! You got your horns in the end, and you've got me now!"_

_He pointed at himself with overflowing enthusiasm._

_"So even if you'd never gotten horns, you still would have me!"_

_He leaned over to snuggle right up to the slightly younger man, looking more like a dog in his affection than a wolf._

_"And I think I'm better than any silly horns, so no sad thoughts! I forbid them! If you want to keep me you can't have any sad thoughts!"_

_He knew it sounded childish, but he wasn't so conceited he couldn't admit to himself that he was a rather childish and selfish man. It didn't mean he lacked empathy or that he wouldn't gladly throw away his life to defend his mate in both worlds, but he simply wasn't going to lie to himself about what kind of person he was. Yorost seemed to love him anyways for it, if the chuckle his antics brought forth was any indication. He suddenly found himself being nuzzled by the black-furred man, having to bite back a giggle as the other wolf went for one of the more ticklish spots on his neck._

_"You're damn right I've got you, and I'm not ever letting you go!"_

_Vinik could only laugh as his mate leaned more of his weight onto him, and managed to blurt out a few words in between his giggles._

_"And I'm glad for that!"_

Victor was broken from his reverie by the sound of his phone going off again, same ringtone as before. He had been staring off at nothingness, a moonstruck look on his face and chin propped up on his hands. That pleased look was wiped from his face quicker than ice melted on a summer day. In Ecuador.

His smile became an uncharacteristic glower, but he still reached for the mobile device nonetheless, tapping to accept the call and holding it up to his ear.

"Yeah?"

"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU OLD MAN YAKOV IS READY TO SKIN YOU ALIVE IF YOU DON'T SHOW UP IN THE NEXT 5 MINUTES!"

That was a surprise.

The man lowered the phone, looking at the time.

Oh.

Oh goodness.

It was almost 9:30.

Practice started at 8.

Yuratchka wasn't kidding.

Yakov was going to kill him.

Victor tapped the call to hang up, simply staring at the screen in shock for a moment longer. He blinked down at the illuminated device, staring as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

He knew he and Yorost has stayed up late last night, but he didn't think it had run this late!

The man suddenly threw himself out of bed, thankfully not tossing Makka out with the sheets. She was still fast asleep, enjoying the extra time to rest in. The silver-haired man winced as he tugged his shirt over his head, further mussing his already rumpled bed-head. He'd have to ask someone to walk her today, maybe Mrs. Petrov, or that new single mother with the two kids who had just moved in a few apartments down. He hadn't had much of a chance to talk with her yet, but he had seen one of the kids wearing a shirt with a dog on it. He hoped that was reason enough to assume they were a dog-friendly family.

He ended up having to run back inside his apartment twice after spending perhaps a minute and a half getting changed (a new personal best!) and two minutes introducing himself to the family and asking (more like begging) them to take Makka for a walk. The first was because he forgot to grab the keys the mother would need in order to get his beloved poodle back inside (and honestly he didn't care if she stole anything he didn't have much anyway, no matter what some believed), and the second time was because he utterly forgot to grab his skates, which was something he'd never thought himself capable of. Yet somehow, late morning panic could do that to you.

His feet pounded against the sidewalk as he sprinted to the nearest bus stop, practically throwing himself on board and grabbing one of the poles as he stood and waited for them to start moving. He didn't even realize his foot was rapidly tapping against the bus floor in nerves until he spotted an older gentleman barely masking his irritation at the noise. He switched to tapping his fingers against the pole instead as he chewed on his bottom lip.

Oh dear gods Yakov was going to kill him.

The one good thing that came out of all of this was that he was suddenly distracted from his displeasure at being pried from his mate. Fear for ones life could do such things.

He nearly tripped on his way out of the bus, having already sprinted a good twenty feet before he suddenly remembered he'd never paid the driver and sprinting back. It was fortunate for him that the driver of this route knew him well at this point, and had been willing to let it go for the day after seeing how worked up the platinum-haired man was. He didn't refuse payment, however.

Victor soon all but stumbled into the rink, already covering his ears as Yakov's shouting began almost as soon as he set foot inside. Or rather, it grew in volume. The man had already been raging by the time Victor arrived.

"VITYA! THIS IS THE THIRD TIME THIS MONTH! I DON'T KNOW HOW YOU'RE EXPECTING TO DO WELL AT THE FINALS IF ALL YOU SEEM TO WANT TO DO IS SLEEP! YOU HAVEN'T FULLY RUN THROUGH YOUR FREE SKATE IN AT LEAST A WEEK, AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON WHEN YOU LAST RAN THROUGH YOUR SHORT PROGRAM. ALL YOU SEEM TO WANT TO DO IS PRACTICE YOUR JUMPS AND JUST GOOF OFF, I HAVEN'T GOTTEN A SOLID DAYS PRACTICE OUT OF YOU IN-!"

Fortunately for the younger man's sanity, one Victor Nikiforov was accustomed to such rantings, and had become a master of the art of nodding and looking like one was paying attention to coach Feltsman while being utterly and completely distracted. He even managed some coherent responses that were actually quite detailed and not the sort of thing you would expect from someone who wasn't listening. He just knew Yakov well enough to get a vague idea of what he was currently yelling about just based on tone of voice, and how to respond appropriately.

They had been going through this sort of thing since he came to train under the man, after all.

Admittedly, he thought to himself as he laced up his skates, it had grown far worse over the past three and a half years. Back when he was still in his early twenties was when the 'dreams' had begun, and the 26 year old man was more than a big enough person to admit that he had been sorely tempted to throw so much of his life away for the sheer sake of sleeping and enjoying his new life once he'd gotten a good enough grip on what was going on. He had been willing to throw his entire career away by keeping himself unconscious for as long as possible if it meant enjoying one more moment of feeling wind brushing through fur he'd never imagined he'd enjoy having. To feel himself carried aloft in the air on wings or to feel the flow of magic in his veins.

He was a big enough person to admit that he had been rather foolish at the time, too enamored with the new world that seemed laid at his paws to realize the severity of the consequences abandoning his career would have. He would still be here on Earth long after his days in Aspheria were over, so he couldn't afford to screw his earthly life up.

It was just really hard when he'd fallen in love and wanted nothing more than to be by his lover's side for the rest of his days. It was so hard to resist the temptation to throw everything away in search of love.

"FOR GODS SAKE VITYA, IF I DIDN'T KNOW ANY BETTER I'D SAY YOU WEREN'T EVEN LISTENING AT ALL! WHY, AFTER ALL THIS TIME AND EFFORT THAT NOT ONLY MYSELF, BUT LILIA, AND THE REST OF YOUR RINKMATES, AND EVEN-!"

Oh, was Yakov still going?

Victor couldn't resist pulling out his phone and checking the time.

Wow! It'd already been over seven minutes! If Yakov kept going at this rate he'd beat his personal best of 8:34 in no time!

"AND THERE YOU GO, ALWAYS ON THAT DAMN PHONE! I SWEAR, KIDS THESE DAYS AND YOUR THRICE-BE-DAMNED TECHNOLOGY! IT'S MADNESS I TELL YOU, THE WAY YOU CAN'T SEEM TO-!"

They were definitely going to break Yakov's personal best today, when he got on technology he could easily go for at least three minutes, no way he wouldn't beat the personal best now. In the corner of his eye he could a nod and a thumbs-up from Mila, who flashed her phone screen at him. She had a timer going.

There were different categories for Yakov's rants, this one fell under 'Late Arrival Ranting', or the speeches that he would give to those who, as the name implied, came to practice excessively late. Yakov's personal best for ranting overall was over an hour and twenty minutes, but the incident that brought on that spiel was not something anyone dared speak of or even hint at lest they incur the mans wrath once more. Victor felt safe in placing money in he rink-wide betting pool that there was no way Yakov could possibly beat his overall personal best, the old mans body simply wasn't up to the challenge!

Hence why the categories had been made, because while there was a general, if displeased among those who put money that Yakov could beat his best, consensus that the overall best was as good as it was going to get, there were always the personal bests in the smaller categories to be considered.

It was like, looking at skating records overall instead of in categories. Like looking at the highest free skate score ever achieved, rather than highest scores ever achieved in Men's, Women's, and Pairs.

Yakov wasn't even looking at Victor anymore at this point in his rant, so the man swung his feet up onto the bench as he flopped back, pulling out his phone and running through his apps real quick. Tapping on Snapchat, he shot a quick video of Yakov ranting in the background, Victor's cheekily grinning face in the corner as he flashed a peace sign in his clearly horizontal position. Sitting back upright he decided to add a few filters here and there, and maybe a sticker or two before adding in the caption, "Yakov's back at it again! LOL! We're about to hit his new personal best!" and sending it off to allow the world to view. He'd probably make another one later commemorating whatever Yakovs new time was when the man finally finished.

It ended up being 9:16. Victor was grumbling as he forked several bills over to Mila. He'd been betting that whenever Yakov set a new best it would be for breaking the 10-minute mark. Well, he was out 20 bucks. He made the over-exaggerated snap accordingly.

"Alright Vitya, on the ice!"

Well, Yakov was at least down to a more normal volume. Well, a normal Yakov volume. Normal by Yakov standards was still jet engine by normal people standards.

"I want to see you run your whole free skate today, and no 'if's 'and's or 'but's! On the ice!"

Victor's jaw clacked shut from where he'd opened it to argue, he hadn't even had a chance to warm-up yet! Other than doing a few stretches of course. How could Yakov expect him to just snap out his free skate without even giving him a chance to get into the groove of things?

"Because, Vitya, if I let you 'get into the groove of things' you'll never 'get out of that groove'."

The silver-haired man's eyes were blown wide as he stared at his coach in shock. He didn't even have to say anything.

"Yes, you said it out loud."

"Sorry?"

"On the ice!"

He skated to the middle of the rink, suddenly grateful to be even those few feet further from Yakov. He could hear Mila's not so subtle snickering.

He came to a halt in the very midst of it all. He stood, head facing downwards as he waited for the tell-tale beginning of the music. He could hear some distant shuffling as they got the music ready.

He knew why he'd chosen this piece. Perhaps it was just him being melodramatic, or him wanting to give a brooding performance for once where at other times he seemed so happy with what he did. Perhaps he just wanted to give something deeper and more emotional to the audience this time around, to let them feel the emotions he tried to display with every scrape of his blades on the ice, rather than to just wow them with his technical prowess.

Silence reigned supreme in the rink for a heartbeat.

The brass came in.

Blue eyes were cast to the ceiling as the 26 year old man fell into the routine so very easily, dimly noting that he hadn't really needed a warm-up period at all. His expression looked sorrowful, longing. His eyes fell close as he brought an arm to his head as though he were swooning as he leaned back on himself, spinning once to stand back upright with his arms curled to his chest and his gaze cast forlornly off into the distance.

_This is for you, Yorost._

He could feel the emotions flowing through his veins as he moved to the music, letting the singer's voice carry him away with the man's heartfelt words. It didn't even seem to matter that he spoke not a word of Italian. He knew the translation by heart to hear the meaning behind every syllable.

_"Sento una voce che piange lontano..."_

He simply let his body move to the feel of the music, wanting to express his longing in every flick of his muscles, in every longing gaze his eyes cast out on where the audience would one day be. He wanted the whole world to know that he was searching, to know that he wasn't just skating a program to surprise (although he was doing that he wasn't going to lie), but that there was a deeper meaning behind it all.

He couldn't wait to see what theories people would come up with on the forums. The skating fandom knew no limits.

He wasn't even aware of the passage of time, only snapping back to reality as he touched down on a jump. Hmm, perhaps he had gotten too lost in his own thoughts. As much emotion as he wanted to portray he didn't want his technical score to suffer. While he wanted to improve his presentation score for this competition, he knew that at the end of the day his technical abilities would always be his strength, and he didn't want his strength to suffer in search of improving his weakness.

His chest heaved for breath as he came out of the spin and into the final pose, arms crossed over his chest as he looked to the ceiling. Perhaps he really hadn't been working as hard as he ought to have been these past few weeks. He knew that his stamina truly wasn't the greatest, but even he shouldn't have been quite so winded after this.

And it seemed he wasn't the only one who'd noticed.

"You would have gotten a higher presentation score for that than would be normal for you, relatively to how well you performed it. But your technical elements suffered too much to make the presentation improvement worthwhile."

Just what he'd been afraid of.

"I want you running drills to improve your stamina, you seem more out of breath than you should be after that program. I want you to re-improve your technical elements and then try again, but don't let your presentation elements drop back down while you do so."

He nodded, not quite having the breath yet to give a verbal response. Yakov accepted it with a grunt.

The moment the man was looking away, Victor dropped to brace himself with his hands on his knees, chest burning.

"Geez old man, how out of shape are you?"

"I- *pant* am just- *pant* fine-, *pant-pant* thank you."

The blond-haired junior just rolled his eyes with a seemingly angry scowl.

"Whatever, just don't come crying to me when you're not fit enough to get your technical elements back in shape and Yakov yells at you for touching down on a Quad again. Speaking of which, when are you going to teach me how to do a Quad?"

Victor had recovered just enough to throw back some of the verbal banter.

"Oh? I thought you wouldn't want to learn a Quad from someone who's so out of shape as I am?"

Little Yuratchka seemed to puff up like an angry cat, something almost disturbingly close to a growl slipping from clenched teeth.

"Hey! Just because you're not as fit as you should be doesn't mean you're out of shape!"

"Watch it, that was almost a compliment."

"Although maybe you should just go ahead and retire and become a full-time coach anyways. You're already offering to teach people things and you seem to be losing your peak fitness, maybe you should retire, Old Man, and leave the competing to us!"

Victor could only smirk as he felt another round of banter building up. Mila had already started the timer. It wasn't just Yakov who had personal bests, after all.

When the silver-haired man finally made it home that day, it was to an ache in his muscles that he admittedly hadn't felt quite as strongly in the last while as he knew he should have been. He thanked the mother and her two kids profusely, who, while still seemingly a little suspicious of the strange man who had showed up at their door with just about no warning, seemed more trusting of him than initially given that he had essentially given them complete access to his apartment for the day. He got his keys back and went into said apartment, to be met with an excited bundle of poodle.

He laughed as he gave her some vigorous scratches behind the ears.

"Hey girl! Did you like your new friends today? I hear that they liked you, yes they did! And someone even told me that you got some extra treats today!"

It was the word 'treats' that sent Makka's tail wagging all the harder, and roused an excited 'woof' from her. Victor simply laughed and went ahead to fetch her some, while he scoured the cabinets to see what he ought to make for dinner tonight. He was getting a lot better at cooking, he would admit. Maybe it had something to do with him no longer being grossed out at the sight of blood that made him more willing to try making his own meals for once.

After all, he certainly did need a lot of protein if he wanted to take gold again! But then again, he was still _Victor Nikiforov_ , of course he would take gold. Just like he had the last four times he went to the Championship.

Especially now that he was starting to build up his presentation score as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victor's not-so-secretly a little shit.
> 
> *shrugs and still has no idea where the plot is going*
> 
> I blame this [art](http://kaly4.deviantart.com/art/Winged-Wolf-390614894) that is absolutely unrelated to the fic and is wholly under the ownership of its artist but is nonetheless sort of what I imagine Vinik to look like as the reason I'm so into this fic right now. (You should totally go favorite that art, it's a good art. Show some love to the artist.)


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